


Undying Bond

by the__pleiades



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Backstory, Character Study, Childhood Friends, First Kiss, Flashbacks, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, Thanatos Is Processing, being a god is rly hard yall, brief depictions of wartime, minor spoilers noted in authors' notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:16:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27083266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the__pleiades/pseuds/the__pleiades
Summary: At the dawn of their divinity, young gods knew nothing but freedom. Zagreus burned as bright as a newborn star with it, almost unnaturally so, even for a god. It was Zagreus who devised their games, who weaved their stories, and who drew out Thanatos’ laugher from a place within himself Thanatos barely understood. Zagreus never asked for anything in return, only his companionship.  Thanatos gave it without thought. He would have basked in that light for eternity if he could.Thanatos forgot none of it. Not a single touch or word had slipped from his mind. He could work himself to exhaustion, he could shield his heart with indignation and resentment. Yet his feelings for Zagreus remained. He still missed him, still needed him, still answered his every beck and call. And now, Thanatos knew he would answer him again.
Relationships: Thanatos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 60
Kudos: 489





	1. Eons Past

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all so much for the incredible love and support you gave to my last fic. If you took the time to leave comments/kudos/bookmarked, I cherish the heck out of you!
> 
> I’m back again with something very soft. Because I am very soft. No relationship spoilers, although I would say this occurs roughly halfway through their relationship progress. One early-on dialogue scene between Thanatos and Lord Hades is referenced.
> 
> SUPER LATE EDIT: HELLOOOOO!!! LOCAL ABSOLUTE LEGEND USER SOLISAUREUS made [the most GORGEOUS art for this fic](https://twitter.com/solisaureus/status/1332506604810481665) (heads up that it references a scene near the end!) Thank you SO SO MUCH for this Robin. <3 <3 <3

It had to be the war. It _had_ to be the reason Thanatos faltered so. Although war was not his jurisdiction, the mortals had managed to stoke their animosity for far longer than usual, and the mounting overtime of his colleagues eventually required Thanatos’ intervention. He could always be counted on to take on additional assignments with a swiftness and a diligence shaped by his eons of practice.

But practice never quite prepared Thanatos for the sight of mortal bodies littering the blood-saturated earth, nor the weight of their souls hanging thick in the air of the battlefield as they awaited burial. He recoiled at the tell-tale signs of Ares’ involvement, with his scarlet-colored curses wrapped like ribbons around the soldiers’ bones. The simple task of shielding himself from the sheer volume of his charges’ parting woes made Thanatos feel as though he had exchanged places with Atlas himself. He wondered if he would sometimes prefer the Titan’s task. At least the world was not nearly as fragile as its inhabitants.

Nevertheless, Thanatos did not yield. He merely blunted his senses and fell into the mechanical rhythm of his task: touch, take and send. Years and years passed feeling as though he existed solely within the confines of his power. He did not know what he would let in if he did otherwise, nor did he want to find out.

The endless stream of brutality must have been what wore him down. It would explain his lack of focus; the ledgers and appointments and reports all so easily forgotten. His assignments all blended together in his mind, seemingly infinite and unrelenting, even as he bore the weight of Lord Hades’ scrutinizing glare.

Lord Hades leaned closer, eyes narrowed, studying Thanatos’ face. Thanatos returned his gaze calmly. If anyone could face Lord Hades, it was Thanatos. After all, his station was less in constant question than other members of the household, if only for the fact that he did his job—save for brief lapses such as this.

“I have received reports from multiple members of my administration about your work as of late, Thanatos,” Lord Hades said. “One of them dared to call it _subpar_. I never thought I would hear your name and a word like that in the same sentence.” 

“There is no excusing my behavior, my Lord,” said Thanatos, bowing his head briefly.

“This is our second meeting on the subject of your performance in such short time,” Lord Hades said. The pressure of his scowl receded as he leaned back into his throne. “We haven’t spoken this much in who knows how long.” 

“I can only offer my apologies once more. I certainly do not intend to waste your time.”

“If that is your intention, then you ought to rest, as I told you before.”

“I promise to make that a priority once I am caught up.” 

“That was not a suggestion, Thanatos,” said Lord Hades, his voice crisp. “I will send word to Charon and Hermes that you are out of commission. Surely, they can stymy that savage ingrate Ares long enough for you to recover your wits. I need you at your best, especially given the _circumstances_ we are under.”

Thanatos opened his mouth to protest, but quickly shut it. It was imprudent to argue against what others would consider a light sentence, if not a gift.

“I understand,” he replied.

Lord Hades dismissed him with a wave of his hand in the direction of the lounge.

Fire-warmed air clouded the empty lounge. The only movement in the room came from the wavering light of candles, burning low in their sconces, and the slow, methodical preparations of the head chef. The shade’s knife falling upon wood punctuated the silence with a steady _thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk._

Thanatos sat at one of the tables. The act of rest did not come as easily as its command; the way Thanatos’ body leaned over the table felt unnatural, like his bones and muscles were not properly aligned. He had been moving, constantly, for so long that it took a moment for the rest of him to catch up. As he rested his head in his palm, he could only think, _What now?_

He watched a shade drift into the lounge, glancing quickly in Thanatos’ direction without looking at him. Their ghostly features contorted into a pretend surprise, as though suddenly remembering they forgot something in the other room that they just _had_ to go get right now. With a soft puff of air, the shade disappeared, and Thanatos was alone once more.

Thanatos’ eyes absentmindedly followed the jade snakes carved into the stone tabletop. It was a new acquisition to the lounge, much like the freshly-carved wooden cabinets, the bright red chaises, and the bejeweled adornments strewn between, all wholly unrecognizable to Thanatos from what was there before.

But the heavy shadows reaching from each corner, and the haze of smoke drifting in the air, unfocused the features of the lounge just enough to slip from certainty. As Thanatos’ lids grew heavier, the bonds of the present time seemed to give. It opened space to a more familiar, more comforting vision, far away from war, from duty, and all the burdens those placed upon him. 

* * *

The tables of the lounge were once carved from glossy marble, gold foil gilding their edges, heralding the golden mortals whose spirits then seeped into the earth and trickled into what would become the Underworld. Thanatos remembered laying underneath those tables, his tiny fingers tracing the marble’s black veins, waiting for Hypnos to seek him. He usually only realized after far too long when Hypnos had fallen into another year-long sleep.

Left to his own devices, Thanatos found other ways to occupy his time. He would pluck foul-smelling bones from the treat jar, evaporating one after the other into green flashes of air until they all successfully landed at Cerberus’ paws. He would turn over the gem-laden statutes Charon kept until their edges wore smooth, memorizing which corner of the surface each of his brother’s trinkets came from. Clutching the black velvet fuzz of the column’s drapes close to him, he would hide to observe the first of the shades pouring into the House, feeling a gentle tug on his heart, an indistinct calling in his mind, at the sight of them.

Then came the quiet day or night when Thanatos lingered at the tall stone door, watching the kitchen until the head chef doffed his cap and drifted out of the room on break. From the countertop, he stole slices of sticky fruits. Their juices ran and knotted in the webs of his fingers as he crept out. He approached Nyx’s skirts, billowing from the dashing of the new child playing around them. The child poked his head out from behind her—Thanatos instinctively took a step back. The child’s mismatched eyes caught him off guard not only by their unusual colors, but by the even more unusual innocence Thanatos saw within them.

Nyx smiled patiently at her son, beckoning him forward. Hesitantly, Thanatos presented his gift. The child ate each piece more voraciously than the last, his striking eyes wide with curiosity.

Thanatos knew then that his offering was appropriate. Like Zagreus, these delicacies seemed full to bursting with color, with life. So was every memory of Thanatos’ youth after that.

At the dawn of their divinity, young gods knew nothing but freedom. Zagreus burned as bright as a newborn star with it, almost unnaturally so, even for a god. It was Zagreus who devised their games, who weaved their stories, and who drew out Thanatos’ laugher from a place within himself Thanatos barely understood. Zagreus never asked for anything in return, only his companionship. Thanatos gave it without thought. He would have basked in that light for eternity if he could.

In these times Thanatos moved like the aurae, as swiftly as though part of the air itself. Laying in the dark of the lounge, this lightness he once possessed found its way into his body again, slowly unpicking the tension he had replaced it with. Behind his closed eyelids he saw the light bolting from their lithe forms, chasing each other through the winding chasm of Tartarus. He saw Zagreus climbing stone statutes, peeking into clay pots, gently brushing the white hair from Thanatos’ eyes. He saw the bright, ripening callouses on Zagreus’ palms as Thanatos clasped them, for the first time moving them outside the realm of substance, into a room lit only by the green haze deep within a fountain well, smelling of ancient earth and dust.

The sound of Zagreus’ bewildered gasp bounced off the walls, followed by flurries of splashing water as the two dove, swam, and play-fought to exhaustion. Tired and content, they clutched the side of the well, exchanging close whispers. They mused on the realm of the mortals and gods above, or what lurks in the primordial void beneath. Thanatos had stories and rumors of his extended family to spare, and Zagreus hung on to each word, asking questions until Thanatos ran out of answers.

As time passed, their conversations would sometimes grow more solemn. Thanatos spoke often of his brother; the specter of mortal dreams had started to haunt his own sleep, and Thanatos often laid by Hypnos’ side until his body stilled. He worried over what it meant for him.

It was there, too, that Zagreus repeated to Thanatos the cruel words that Lord Hades said to him away from the prying eyes of the Court. Thanatos listened carefully, leaning shoulder to shoulder with Zagreus as his short bursts of flaming rage cooled off. Ripples of gold-green water spread from their feet, and Thanatos studied them as if to scry a solution.

“Perhaps I should not go back to the House,” Zagreus said once. His breath rattled slightly in his sigh. After a silence, his voice returned stronger, jauntier. “Perhaps I should stay here, and rule over my own domain right from our fountain. I will be King of the Wretches, and you will be my loyal general.” Zagreus turned to Thanatos, a smile barely covering the wistfulness in his eyes. “What do you think?”

“I think you have listened to too many stories,” Thanatos replied.

Thanatos did not say how the thought blossomed in his mind, how even as the prospect curled fear into his stomach, that he could not imagine doing anything else but standing at Zagreus’ side. He didn’t have to. Thanatos must have given just enough away in his expression to earn a knowing smile from Zagreus.

“We’re going to make our own,” said Zagreus.

And perhaps so—for all they knew, gods shaped their own destinies. They had yet to learn that not even gods escaped the designs of the Fates.

The memory of the well faded, its green waters replaced by the blood-red Styx, breaking beneath Charon’s boat as it sailed all too quickly upstream. Thanatos tried to conceal the trepidation that bound his grip so tight around the looming scythe— _his_ scythe, now. He avoided the gaze of its sharp purple eye, lest it judge the value of his divinity. Even beset in the soft, lilting voice of his mother, his task seemed insurmountable. He repeated his instructions over and over again in his mind, focusing on the soft weight of Mort tucked within the folds of his chiton to ground him. Charon’s gentle pat to his shoulder signified their arrival.

The first mortal soul that uncoiled in his touch felt as razor-thin as the wings of a butterfly, and more fragile still. He held it close the entire ride back. If the voyage to the surface felt terrifyingly short, the return was the opposite, long enough to dwell on all the ways that all kinds of lives lived would eventually find their way to him. After seeing the shade to its destination, Thanatos again sought the shroud of the fountain well, watching his fingers tremble.

It was another set of hands, clasped around his, that finally got them to stop shaking. Zagreus was still too young to assume any of the administrative tasks of the House. He knew nothing of Thanatos’ obligation, or what it even meant to die. But Zagreus wound through Tartarus until he found Thanatos and stayed with him, his breath even, his eyes patient. He stayed until Thanatos croaked out that he could not do this. He did not want to do this.

“Okay,” Zagreus said, nodding resolutely. “We shall go tell Nyx immediately. She will know what to do.”

From the conviction in Zagreus’ voice alone, Thanatos could have believed him. The solution sounded so simple, so obvious, coming from him. But Thanatos, even then, knew otherwise. He stayed Zagreus, who was already standing up to leave.

“No,” he replied. He repeated the words of the Fates, burned into his tongue: “’Zeus the Father shall craft mortal men from stones and ash, clad and housed in bronze. Through terrible violence, they will bring ruin to their generation, and Thanatos, Death Incarnate, shall sever their souls from their bodies with his touch as penance. Each generation thereafter shall fear and dread him.’ That is the purpose of my godhead.”

Thanatos looked up. “Do you think I am dreadful?” He asked quietly, his breath tight in his throat.

Zagreus shook his head. “Not at all, Than. But I am not mortal.”

“If you were mortal, you would fear me?”

Zagreus pondered the question, his wild black eyebrows gently pulled together in thought.

Such a childish question felt so far beneath Thanatos’ conception. The insecurity that gripped him so severely then seemed more suited for a lesser god now. He cared little how mortals felt about him one way or another.

And yet, Zagreus’ answer mattered. His words still rang clear in Thanatos’ mind, the softening of his features etched into his memory.

“I don’t think I would,” Zagreus said slowly. “I think I would be grateful if I saw you. I know you would mean to bring me peace.”

Were peace truly under his influence, he would have given it to Zagreus, and Zagreus alone, innumerable times over. He would have anointed Zagreus in their tranquil waters there, declaring him immune from pain and harm.

What peace could he possibly offer now, to a mortal or to a god? He saw no such power to give the bronze-bodied men tearing flesh from flesh, to Sarpedon’s limp body carried by him and Hypnos to Lycia, to the modern soldiers who languished in regret and dishonor. All he had to his godhead was the touching, the taking, the sending. What little else he knew of himself only echoed out from distant memories.

Time marched on relentlessly. Mortals called for him constantly. As his absences lengthened, and the time he and Zagreus shared waned, Thanatos found he could not give anything to Zagreus anymore, let alone give all that he wanted. The embraces Thanatos gave so freely before withered before they could reach Zagreus. The pressure of words built and built in Thanatos’ throat, but they all felt too trivial to speak. 

The poisonous spats in the House of Hades grew in number and deepened in gravity. Thanatos watched in silence as Zagreus’ desperation fomented into despair, then into cold, unyielding determination. The first sight of Zagreus in Elysium, eyes turned to the surface, tore an ache into his stomach that still pained him each time he recalled it. It struck over and over each time he lent his aid, knowing that Zagreus came that much closer to leaving. The bitterness that laced his tongue then made it all the easier to say nothing.

But the desire to say _something_ remained. Zagreus had given him lifetimes of comfort, but for all Zagreus’ need, Thanatos could not convey anything so important. The more he turned the thoughts in his mind, the more craven that desire became. Soon enough Thanatos could only conjure up fantasies of a different language, of murmuring into Zagreus’ flushed skin, his hands bringing pause to his ever-moving muscles, and hushing his mind of all pain in exchange for bliss. Such dangerous and selfish secrets were as useless as anything else. They still called to him as though spurred by the Fates themselves. The need to be more, so much more, for Zagreus had only grown with age and distance, daring to consume him with no recourse to escape it.

But he knew he did not want an escape. He wanted reclamation. If only there was anything left to reclaim.

Forget the mortal’s war. At least a war would have an end. Thanatos realized there was no proper end to this, only the slow and merciless receding of the past he held dear, irretrievable, falling into dark. All it took was one moment’s rest to let this thought sink into him. He could not turn away from it now. 

* * *

Heaviness entered Thanatos’ body again, but along with it the starkness of his memories washed away. The world felt distant, as soft to his senses as sheep’s wool. He perceived then the familiar touch of his brother’s handiwork blanketing him. Thanatos silently uttered his gratitude as it pulled him down. He laid like this for he knew not how long.

Suddenly, a loud jingling of keys drew him out of the mist. The sound stopped abruptly. A voice called his name out, and as his wits returned, Thanatos recognized the owner of the familiar tenor at once.

“Thanatos?” Zagreus called again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   * I’m a little obsessed with the idea of Than and Zag being childhood friends to eventual lovers, so this fic is designed to illustrate that, as well as a little of the time between. (My very hot, very unique take is that Thanatos adores Zagreus as much as his codex says he does, so I wanted to explore his perspective on things.)
>   * It’s also an attempt to Make It Make Sense that they could be childhood friends in the first place. My idea is primarily based on the timeline from Hesiod’s “The Ages of Man” in Works and Days. It’s A Lot but essentially, I’ve made up that Thanatos materialized around the same time as the first mortals, as he’s materially tied to mortality. Gold and Silver mortals precede the Titanomachy by a bit, and then Zagreus is born at some point thereafter. Their childhood would have taken place just before/during the era of the demigods, which I think is when we get Achilles. And yes, I did make all of this up for angst and romance purposes.
>   * Also, I’m aware that Thanatos is the god of peaceful death, but the game lore seems to muddy this a bit given the conversation I’ve referenced so I ran with it for, once again, angst and romance purposes. No further questions at this time...
>   * Huge thanks to [itishighnoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/itishighnoon), [Akaadji](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akaadji), and [aerike](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerike) for beta reading!!! And shoutout to [AirlessStar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AirlessStar) for the lil nugget about Thanatos bringing Mort to his work bc it killed me TnT
> 



	2. Eternal Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said see you in a month and I MEANT IT!!
> 
> I hope you enjoy the second half of this work!
> 
> I am not sure this even qualifies as a spoiler, but anyway: the name of the fourth realm comes up in this chapter.
> 
> Now that this work is complete, I’d imagine it to take the place of some of the conversations leading up to full hearts with Than.

A disorienting wave of consciousness quickly rose within Thanatos. The lounge materialized again beneath him. Through Thanatos’ bleary eyes, he saw only a single line of candlelight tracing the faintest curve of an exposed shoulder, up into the bright halo of burning laurels, framing skin in a faint orange glow against the black. In the remaining haze of his slumber, Zagreus appeared to Thanatos like a half-formed specter, summoned by his dreams. The clinking of the bronze keys Zagreus clutched finally brought Thanatos back into the present moment. He stirred, meeting Zagreus’ face.

Zagreus righted himself, blinking his wide-eyed expression away. “I apologize,” Zagreus said quickly. “You really were sleeping. I shouldn’t have woken you up with all my carrying on.”

“It’s all right,” Thanatos replied. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep in the first place.”

Zagreus watched him for another moment, then turned to the Wretched Broker. “Just dropping these off,” he announced a little too loudly into the deafening silence. He lowered his voice to a whisper as he leaned closer to the broker. “I’ll take the nectar, please.”

Zagreus set the nectar down on the table. “You look like you need this,” he announced matter-of-factly.

 _Another empty gesture?_ Thanatos bit back the thought. “I don’t need anything, Zagreus,” he replied, sounding sterner than he intended.

“Apparently my father thought otherwise which, you have to admit, is saying something. He really _ordered_ you to take a break?”

“Who told you that?”

Zagreus shrugged. “Only the best secret keeper in the House, who happens to sit just in front of my father’s throne. Bit of an oversight if you ask me.”

Thanatos sighed, silently revoking his original thanks to Hypnos.

“Lord Hades did not give me a choice, no,” Thanatos muttered. “He did not seem pleased that I defied his original suggestion, so I did not push the subject.”

“I can’t believe I’m the one saying this, but perhaps he was right to force your hand,” Zagreus said. He took the seat next to Thanatos. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you at the House. I was starting to wonder if you’d taken up residence in Charon’s moors or something. Your current assignment must be pretty intense.”

Pleading hands and choked cries welled up in Thanatos’ thoughts. “Yes. It is _intense_ , Zagreus,” Thanatos replied. “That is an apt description for decades of bloodshed.”

“Right—er, I suppose that is a given. Forgive me. I only can glean so much of what goes on up there, as much as I’d like to know more.” Zagreus nudged the nectar closer. “Something to take the edge off, then.”

Thanatos’ chest tightened at the gentle curve of Zagreus’ lips, the expectant nod of his head—there was no taking the edge off of a sight like him.

“If that’s your goal, consider saving this for Ares,” Thanatos said. “I don’t suppose he’s enjoying whatever is keeping me at bay right now. He’s probably thinking of all the ways to make up for it in short order.”

“I can try, but I have a feeling that’s above my paygrade.” Zagreus remained silent for a moment, scratching the stone table. “There may be a lot going on,” Zagreus added slowly, "but I hope you know that you don’t have to sulk about the lounge all by yourself.”

“ _Tch_. I was not _sulking_.” Thanatos crossed his arms. “You think that of everyone engaged in quiet contemplation.”

“ _Than_ ,” Zagreus said, looking at him through narrowed eyes. “I’m pretty sure I know the difference with you.”

Thanatos turned away, hiding the smile inching across his face. It was not fair, the effect that Zagreus’ teasing voice had on him. “All right. Tell me, Zagreus, what ought I do instead?”

“Not keep everything bottled up all the time, for one. And two, you could try talking to me about it instead.” Zagreus paused. “If you have a moment, then maybe we could… go somewhere coworkers and shades aren’t milling about? Somewhere more private?”

Thanatos knew he should protest. He should deny the part of himself that Zagreus could always talk into anything. But whether it be from the memories fresh at the front of his mind, or the vestiges of sleep softening his resolve, or the way Zagreus’ smile met Thanatos’ own with such hopeful anticipation, Thanatos could not find it within himself to reject him outright. 

“I wouldn’t want to keep you from anything important,” Thanatos said. “That is, unless you insist.”

Zagreus shook his head, his smile growing. “I’m not here to tell you how to use your free time, seeing how little you get of it. However, I was just preparing to take my leave again. And I will insist on lingering a little here or there at a certain place while I’m out.”

“Well then. By all means, Zag. Linger away.” 

Zagreus shot out of his seat. “All right. Then I’ll see you there—maybe. Regardless, I hope you enjoy that.” He pointed at the nectar. “It would be unbecoming of me to re-gift it. Besides, what I give to you is yours, and yours alone.”

In a flash, he was gone.

Thanatos ran his thumb back and forth over the rough cork top of the bottle. Its contents churned slowly, the glitter catching sparks in the dim light as he lifted it to his lips to drink. Each sip of the gods’ vintage felt like the first, like a stolen secret, heady and forbidden. To imbibe it alone was sufficient enough, but nectar was a pleasure designed to be shared. He imagined such an indulgence would taste all the more delicious on the prince’s breath.

Thanatos stopped the thought there. He vanished the bottle, cursing himself. The spell of Zagreus’ presence had settled in without his noticing, and gods help him if he did not actively guard against it. With the heat draining from his face, and his sensibility returning, Thanatos realized he had possibly agreed to meet Zagreus not on the battlefield, not in the public halls of the House, but somewhere alone together, for the first time in ages.

Thanatos concentrated the eye of his gauntlet down to a narrow point of sensation: _a flicker of a soul, thin as thread, leaping out of the House and moving through Tartarus. The signature brightened against withering shades, then dampened when claws and hexes struck true._ Zagreus moved deftly. His body sang with vigor. Tartarus would not give Thanatos enough time to steel himself, only enough time to hesitate whether to accept the invitation.

He had managed to stave Zagreus off before. It was easier in the time just before he left, when Zagreus’ temper boiled under the strain of his workload, his carefree demeanor poisoned by his father’s constant reminders of his inadequacy. Rebellion was his only outlet then. That, Thanatos could reject. He had duties he could not shirk. The endless reaping of souls was far easier to bear than seeing the mischief in Zagreus’ eyes, once a familiar comfort, hardening around the edges.

 _A stab of pain broke through a whirlwind of souls_. The gash smarted, but it will not deter Zagreus for long. He pressed on to another room, coming closer and closer to his old shortcut.

Thanatos had so carefully maintained that distance after Zagreus’ escape. From Tartarus to Elysium, when he could not help but intervene, he still summoned enough restraint only to aid, usually not to linger, and certainly never to stay. Even in the House, he left before Zagreus tried to cut too deep into the silence, before wordless frustration flayed him alive. He dove headlong into the war-torn surface, where memories of shared smiles and secrets could be kept at bay, untouched and uncomplicated. If his divine task consumed him there, as brutal and mindless as it was, at least he could forget all else.

But to what end?

Thanatos forgot nothing. Not a single touch or word had slipped from his mind. He could work himself to exhaustion, he could shield his heart with indignation and resentment. Yet his feelings for Zagreus remained. He still missed him, still needed him, still answered his every beck and call. And now, Thanatos knew he would answer him again.

At last, the signature of Zagreus came to a rest. Dampness beaded faintly on his skin, and Thanatos felt it gather on his own fingertips. Instinct guiding him, he found the soft gossamer of spiderwebs, then the rough, chipped edge of the cornerstone where Zagreus once slipped and cracked his tooth. Coalescing the sensations in his gauntlet, seeing the soul and the earth it marked, the silver vibrated and sung of his approach.

Thanatos emerged from the void near the obsidian gate, his accompanying flash of light briefly erasing the shadows gathered behind it. On the opposite end of the walkway, Zagreus rested at the foot of the fountain, beneath the cracked, mossy statue of a figure kneeling in prayer, awash in candlelight. 

Thanatos floated forward, releasing his gauntlet to his side. “I’m surprised you still know how to get here,” he said.

“What, like it’s hard?” Zagreus blinked. “If the shortcut shows up, I can find my way here in my sleep. I ought to be the surprised one, since you actually showed up.”

“I’ll admit the thought of you hanging around here by yourself was amusing. Though I suppose I shouldn’t stall you for too long either way.” 

“I specifically requested that you do so. Besides, a change of pace is good every now and then, wouldn’t you say?” Zagreus’ shoulders relaxed as he leaned back on the stone steps.

Thanatos took his place next to Zagreus. Green-white light pinched and wavered out from the water at their backs, fading slowly out into the oblivion of the cavern above. The air in the chamber felt suspended, saturated to the corners by an ancient chill, which made the warmth of Zagreus’ skin feel all the closer. A faint flush of exertion painted his face and neck, warm and smooth like sunbaked stones, accentuating his musk. The aroma reminded Thanatos of jasmine and burning cypress. Things of the surface.

The spot on his chest where Zagreus’ wound should have been looked as pristine as the rest of him. Zagreus, catching Thanatos’ gaze, rubbed the spot.

“Don’t have to worry about that, luckily,” Zagreus said. “The fountain fixed it up.”

“Seems like you’re doing well this time,” Thanatos replied.

“Decent, I’d say.” Zagreus smiled. A stripe of still-wet pomegranate juice split his bottom lip.

“It wasn’t too long ago that you lasted only a few chambers before ending up in the Styx.”

“Those louts really used to hurt. But Tartarus doesn’t put up much of a fight these days, or nights.” Zagreus shifted, tilting his head down, as though hesitating on his next thought.

“I have seen the delta,” Zagreus said finally, “of the Styx.”

“In the Temple?”

“Yes. Not for long. But from what I’ve seen, it’s beautiful, the way the red Styx fans out into blue, and the water falls and crashes from above. I can’t wait to see the rest of it now.”

“The river is a means to an end for most of us. But you have a way of seeing things in ways others do not. In that regard, I think you will find much to enjoy on the surface.”

“Perhaps I will,” Zagreus replied, his voice barely louder than the trickling water. “Soon enough.”

Zagreus used to struggle to lift the Stygian Blade. It wove through the air like an unruly dog on its leash, tilting and rocking Zagreus’ body rather than the other way around. The same Stygius rested beside Zagreus now, no longer dwarfing his might, but complementing it. In his physique and the confidence of his voice, the breadth of Zagreus’ power could be felt, markedly so. 

The only signs of his past form lay around them: a tile scorch-marked in the shape of Zagreus’ footprint, the walls that had absorbed his laughter, the cracked cornerstone which caused many boastful, impish smiles. These marks were inanimate and insubstantial, serving only to remind Thanatos of what no longer existed.

Zagreus was right, Thanatos thought. It would be soon enough. It could happen this escape. It could happen now. Reality, stark and close, bit into his chest mercilessly.

Zagreus glanced at Thanatos, kitting his brows together. Looking away, he raised his voice again. “In any case, I’ve done well enough to draw father’s ire away from you,” he quipped.

Zagreus’ sarcastic impertinence shook Thanatos out of thought. “Oh, is that what happened?” He volleyed back.

“It absolutely is. Think about it. As long as I am creating more work for him, he doesn’t have the energy to punish you. So really, I’ve been of great help to you.”

“You’re helping me get further behind in my work.”

“Maybe that’s for the better. You looked pretty miserable, to be honest.” Zagreus paused. “Are you?”

Zagreus asked a simple question, one Thanatos could brush off easily, were it not for the softness of his voice, prying him open just enough to relent. The war was impartial to him, and therefore easier to discuss with Zagreus than the previous topic.

Thanatos sighed. “My current assignment is merely tiresome, Zagreus. That is all.”

“Tiresome in what way?”

Thanatos chose his words carefully. Zagreus did not need to know everything about the surface. He would find out enough on his own. “The days are longer than ever,” Thanatos said. “With winter lasting as long as it has, sometimes I can scarcely tell when one ends and another begins. It seems that the mortals are having the same struggle.”

“This is all because of Demeter?” Zagreus asked.

Thanatos scoffed. “Were she the only Olympian involved.” He spoke of the city-states, their ever-intricate conflicts over spots of land or tempting resources, and the gods who intervened for their own amusement.

Zagreus huffed. “I had no idea they tangled themselves up in so many mortal affairs. To me, it doesn’t seem like many of them would find it that interesting.”

Thanatos gave Zagreus a pointed look. “There are many things that would not seem to be true about the Olympians, based on the way they fall all over you. It is more complicated a game for some. Others are more straightforward in their desires. I am sure Ares has bragged to you that he culls the land of mortals so thoroughly that he could till it with their blood. So thoroughly, in fact, that I am called upon to serve there, as well.”

“I thought you stayed out of the battlefield.”

“If I do not intervene, then it will be another Psychopomp bearing the brunt of it.”

Zagreus frowned. “But Than, you intervene at your own expense.”

Thanatos bristled. “It is not at my expense,” he said, though not as convincingly as he would have liked. “It is the nature of my godhead to aid such matters. Besides, I am only called there when the quantity of souls necessitates it. The resulting poverty spreading in Athens keeps me busy enough.”

“That’s quite a lot to deal with, all by yourself. You do realize that, right?”

Thanatos remained silent. He mulled over the torrent of the thoughts that had so long plagued him: the pressure of his present assignment, mixing with the ache of memories and the apprehension of the future. In solitude, these were formless, intrusive anxieties, grinding him into dust. He assumed it better not to speak of them to anyone else, certainly not Zagreus.

He could not be so sure anymore. There was something in that moment, in Zagreus’ tender expression, the soothing tenor of his voice, the closeness of his body, that Thanatos drank in unconsciously. An impulse toward these comforts guided him, desperate for their relief, regardless of whatever it would reveal in the process.

“It is a lot to deal with,” Thanatos admitted finally. “And perhaps I shouldn’t try to bear it all by myself. I am… not sure I realized that, until recently.”

Thanatos leaned in closer, their shoulders pressed together, and in response Zagreus gently knocked Thanatos’ foot with his, the swing of their limbs in sync, the singing heat grazing Thanatos’ calf. 

“I remember a time when you were afraid to ferry a single soul with you,” Zagreus murmured. “And look at you now, dealing death in times of war.”

“It is simply what I had to learn to do.” Thanatos paused. “Though I had plenty of encouragement to get there.”

“Still, it sounds horrid, getting caught up in all of that.”

“I suppose so. Now you know why I didn’t bother telling you about it.”

“That’s just it, Than,” Zagreus said slowly, catching Thanatos’ eyes. “I want you to tell me about it. I can’t make your work any easier, but I can try to make it easier on you. You know you can tell me anything, like you—like you used to.”

Thanatos realized that as they spoke, they had closed the air between them, until he felt Zagreus’ words more than he heard them. What little space left seemed acutely charged. And Thanatos saw just how little of distance he would have to close before too much of their skin touched, crossing the threshold where his walls would crumble, his heart would reach out, and he would be entirely unable to escape the pull of it.

“Tell me everything,” Zagreus whispered. There was the Zag he knew, his even breath, his patient eyes, and all at once Than felt exposed before him, spilling open like the flood of a vengeful naiad. Zag knew where to pick at his defenses, knew when to labor and when to relax, knew just how to crawl into his soul and bare it. He held this power from birth, honing it without trying, without even _thinking_ , and Than had no armor left to fight against it.

“You ask me to tell you everything?” The words flared out of Thanatos’ mouth before he had a chance to catch them. How tight the breath in his throat felt again. “What difference does it make when you intend to leave? When you couldn’t even tell me that much?”

Anguish darted across Zagreus’ face. He shook his head. “You still don’t understand why I am doing this?”

“I understand it. I understand what it will mean to you. That does not change how you did it.”

“It wasn’t right. I never wanted to hurt you.” 

Their exchange came faster now, a frantic tumbling of words, slipping back into an old familiarity.

“I just ran and—and I didn’t look back,” Zag added. “I wasn’t even sure if you would care.”

“Of _course_ I would care, Zag,” Than replied, unable to remove the quiver in his voice.

“I see that in hindsight. Before that, so much time had passed—I didn’t know what to think, much less what to say.”

“So you said nothing.”

“Yes,” Zag sighed.

“Well, so did I. It just— _ugh_. It seemed like there was nothing I could do to make you feel better.”

“That isn’t true. And even if it were, that isn’t your responsibility.”

“I felt like it was.”

“What do you mean?”

Thanatos caught a hold of himself. He sensed that he said too much and not enough at the same time. The urge to flee took hold of him, but a deeper urge held him in place.

“I don’t know,” Than said. “Perhaps I made it all up. I can’t be sure anymore. But whenever I get to thinking about it, how we were… it seemed like we could get through anything together. But that was before everything became so complicated.”

“We still can, Thanatos,” Zag replied.

Than felt the lightest touch of Zag’s fingertips against his. An opening salvo, like the first notes in a song, breaking through the air.

“And I still want that. I want it now more than ever.”

Zagreus’ eyes shone, and within them there was a desire, a pleading, that Thanatos recognized intimately.

“Do you?” Zag asked softly.

The ichor in Than’s veins caught fire, and if the chill of the fountain well still existed, he no longer felt it. There was warmth in his face, warmth in Zag’s fingers coiling tighter between his own, warmth rooting down into his chest.

“Yes,” Than rasped. “But it cannot be. You are leaving, and I have my assignment—it’s different now.”

“I know.” Zag smiled. “It just means we find each other again. We find each other, and we make something new.”

Thanatos understood immediately. He understood deeply, innately, what Zagreus meant. The destiny of the present moment clicked into place. A boundless jubilation struck him then, freeing him of fear for the first time since his youth.

Thanatos surged forward, his free hand closing on Zagreus’ waist, and pulled him into a searing kiss.

Zagreus tasted exotic, a new feeling to an old god, in the unmade moment before Thanatos’ mind caught up with his body. His soft lips burned against Than’s own, parting for him as though made for that reason alone. Zag did not startle, nor did he pull away; he met Than with a knowing and equal fervor. His face relaxed, his body melting of all tension, finding the solace Than had so longed to give him. 

Every point of contact—Zag’s fingers trailing up the sides of Than’s neck, the gentle pressing forward of his chest, the wet velvet mark of his tongue—sparked the revival of sensation, one after the other across his skin. When their lips broke, an easier breath filled Than’s chest, as cleansing and pure as though drawn from the spring of life itself. He could chase them forever, these divine pleasures endowed by his prince. How foolish he felt to run away from such an offering. How desperately he wanted to make up for lost time.

Zag’s lips and tongue and hands were suddenly not enough to sate Than. He could tell the same from how Zag snaked his arms around him, pulling his body closer. Their kiss quickened, growing in hunger. Than thought of the many more dreams and desires he could pour into this embrace, coming precariously close to their tipping point. Zagreus let one hand fall between them then, pressing it to Than’s chest gently. Underneath his palm, Than’s heart grew tender again.

As they pulled back, it took Thanatos a moment to collect himself through the haze. Their foreheads touching, the two let a sweet silence fill the air, the quiet relief of love out in the open.

Zag spoke first. “I have wanted to do that for so long.”

“You have?” Than asked incredulously.

“Wasn’t I obvious?”

“Well—maybe. I don’t know. I never thought we had anything left after all this.”

The two pulled away, cooler air gathering between them.

Zag looked down, drawing circles on Than’s wrist with his thumb. “Do you remember the time when I managed to knock every scroll off the wall of the administrative chamber at the same time?” 

The memory of Zag, a tuft of black hair poking out of a mountain of white parchment, made Thanatos laugh involuntarily. “You mean the first time you were banned from the administrative chamber? Yes, I remember.”

“I wasn’t there but a moment before you were by my side, picking up contracts and flashing them back into place.”

“It seems I cannot let you act rashly alone.”

“No, try as you might. I remember thinking, then, that it will always be like this. That we would be there for one another. I think I may have taken it for granted.” Zag encircled Than’s wrist with his fingers. “The prospect of losing that—losing this—hurt a lot. I don’t think I realized it until I we found each other again in Elysium. I want to make certain that will not happen again.”

The fountain light danced on Zagreus’ face, brightening the shine on his love-bitten lips, and in all the eons Thanatos knew him, Zagreus never looked more beautiful.

Looking at Zagreus, Thanatos saw with clarity each clandestine meeting, each sorrowful secret shared, their effortless mirth and the pain of their strife, occupying stretches of time where each seemed limitless in their own right. The sting of it was bright and real, but Thanatos would gladly go through it all again if it meant seeing Zagreus like this. He could suffer anything to guarantee an eternity of lives lived with him, always returning to one another in the end.

Zagreus took the silence as another opportunity to kiss the corners of Thanatos’ lips. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, Than. And I know you don’t either. Unfortunately, it’s neither of our specialties. But whatever it is, I just need to know that I can find you on the other side of it. That we can go through it together.”

Thanatos nodded, and on Zagreus’ lips he found the second half of his promise, making it whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I had a lot of fun with this one.
> 
>   * So… just to be clear, the little description of Thanatos’ gauntlet is entirely a headcanon that fell right out of me while writing this. I just think it would be neat if it’s a tool that helps Thanatos perceive certain souls for reaping and thus hones his transport ability.
>   * As with 100% of things in my life, this fic has some musical patron saints: [this incredible cover of Confide in Me by Tame Impala](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3jd4mi4oz5E), [Cassius’ Don’t Let Me Be (Brozeur Remix)](https://open.spotify.com/track/49hzYTe8OV4pa2et5U8eBf), and a whole lot of vaporwave… I mean a WHOLE lot.
>   * Massive thank you to AirlessStar, Ferret55 and itishighnoon for beta reading this chapter!
>   * Just a note to the subscribers for this work: I'm tossing around the idea of adding more childhood drabbles and possibly some other...Rating May Change stuff... set within this timeline. Especially if there's interest for it. 
> 

> 
> Thanks as always to this incredible fandom and everyone who takes the time to leave feedback on this work. More stuff coming soon!

**Author's Note:**

> I recently re-started using Twitter from scratch, so [give me a follow if you’d like](https://twitter.com/the__pleiades) (18+ only please!!). I will be posting fic updates and some WIPs there. It would also just be neat to make fandom friends.


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